


Small Light

by Celestos (Seruspica)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, M/M, More characters and pairings to come, Questionable past Spiritshipping, Will change once written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seruspica/pseuds/Celestos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Discontinued. Will not be rewritten or touched on again - keeping it up as people have asked.]</p><p>AU. 'A star is not a small, twinkling light that dwells amongst the heavens. It's a great gaseous sphere, raging and uncontained - and when you hold one in the palm of your hand, the world will burn.' Two human wrecks and their spirits in the ruins of barren Earth. Eventual Starshipping, with other pairings. YGO DM/GX/5Ds crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Judai

**Author's Note:**

> I said I'd write no more. That was 2 years ago, thanks to a toxic former fandom. YGO and the relating spinoffs are a born-again fandom love for me that goes way back; I got this idea after a resurgence - and finding this shipping! - all of a sudden and have been writing notes for days.
> 
> As always, this is a fanfiction, and I don't own the series in question, all that.
> 
> Much love.
> 
> Yours, Celestos

##  **Part One - After the Chaos**

* * *

_**Chapter I** _

_**Judai** _

* * *

The sky was white.

Thick, mood-less clouds obscured any shreds of blue that dared to peer past the blankness. It was as if there was a sense of being choked in the air; all azure hope had been forced back to where it could not be seen. Grey shades gave the clouds a look of heaviness, as if they were about to fall and crush the ground beneath them, thunder breaking the soil, but not a drop of water would fall. The world was too cruel for the thirsty these days.

And if the sky did fall, with those clouds gaining mass by some unseen miracle, then what would it all do? The Earth did not need any more destruction. It had already been broken. Everything was already dust and stone. Rubble and dust had left the countless landscapes grey and brown, the land black and blue and brown with wilted grass and fallen branches, rotten wood exposed. Dead beetles swarmed around streams of poisonous fungi. The fungi dwelled without an issue, it seemed, and wherever the fungi were, living humans were not. Nor living beasts. Nothing lived. Everything died. All creatures died. Humans…

Judai Yuki tried his hardest to not think of the  _human_  side of death.

It was an action easier dreamt of than done. Where he had been, where his weary feet had passed over, the ground reeked of it. The soil was saturated. He'd learned - had to learn - to ignore the damn stench, lest the whole impression drive him mad. There had not been much blood. Much of what he had seen had long since dried, amongst stony flesh and grotesquely broken bone, limbs splayed out of place, what were certainly skulls cracked in multiple places. The faces were the worst.

Too many to bury.

There was dust in his hair and a soreness in his joints. He had stopped counting the days since he had left the others behind, and had forgotten how long it had been since the chaos had struck. He had been alone for a while now, him and a rucksack of tinned food and the odd bottle, each day of journeying feeling like it stretched on for weeks. That was the cost of being alone; something he treasured and resented all at once.

It meant solitude and freedom and nobody to leave behind when the sickness came for their breaths. It meant relief, with no-one to wish well in the end.

With these moments of loneliness came that feeling that he may be the last.

"Kuri?" His small, furred-and-winged familiar emerged from behind, fluttering to take a better place beside the traveller.  _Only the last_ human _,_ thought Judai, a fatigued smile taking form.  _The spirits remain._

He had memories of calling going back to childhood, to the bright times. Back then, he still had the sun. Friends - at times many, often few. He'd been a strange child, had talked to himself, been obsessed with imagination. His parents seemed as distant as his classmates. But Judai knew that what he saw, and nobody else could see, was not imagined. The spirits were real. They were countless, great and small, furred and scaled and skinned and wise and foolish and young; older than any man in age, even if not in appearance.

Kuriboh had been one of the first spirits he could call his 'familiar'. The small creature had been in his memories stretching back to the earliest days, as far back as he remembered, perhaps even before he could speak. Perhaps as far back and when Judai could never remember. A strange looking thing - a brown ball of fur that reminded him of a curled up kitten, with clumsy scaled limbs and great golden eyes. There were many spirits as such; a simple family with a certain charm. His vocabulary was limited, little beyond the sound Judai had just heard -

"Kuri-kuri!"

\- and heard again - but Kuriboh, he knew, was far more intelligent than he seemed. And warm. And full of energy, even when the sky was dead and nobody was alive. This was the friend he needed, and was most thankful to have. Amongst the circle of familiars that had expanded over the years as he mastered his spirit-calling abilities, the little white-winged furball was indeed special. What he lacked in brute strength - and Judai had been challenged only once, then calling on the aid of a larger spirit - Winged Kuriboh made up for in solidarity. That was all he needed right now.

Judai winced as his stomach grumbled.  _And food,_  he thought.  _So much for being human…_

His eyes scanned around the ruined town which he had reached. Kicking a small piece of concrete out of the way on the path, he searched for a spot in which he could rest. He had been awake for some time, struggling to sleep in the evenings but nonetheless forcing himself to settle.

_Hunger? Is that why I can't sleep? Am I sick?_

He hoped, more than anything, that he wasn't.

Judai, by force of habit, more than any other reason, often rested amongst ruined buildings. There had been no tremors for…  _weeks_ , he thought. He was never sure of the passage of time these days. What he was sure of, however, was that he could not go inside the ruins.

There was no supernatural cause behind it; being a spirit-caller was not being a vampire. He could enter and leave as he pleased, wherever he wanted to, provided there was no lock. Nobody could stop him entering. It would not be 'breaking', even, provided nothing was further destroyed. Entry wouldn not be difficult, what with the abundance of collapsed walls and flaking doorways, though if a roof had caved in, there was the added difficulty of searching through rubble. The fear of a full-on collapse was also imminent - that was true - but there were far greater reasons why he dared not enter a household.

Firstly, it was impolite to those who had dwelled there. Human sense. Judai was an opportunist, and had relied on theft from the odd food store to supplement his (limited) supplies, but he had morals. Clearly, the action felt wrong.

Secondly, he did not want to see any residents' bodies.

There were already enough on the streets to make him feel nauseous at times, and he was forced to choke down the bile at the sight of the unavoidable. That was reality, and he dared not make his own situation worse. He barely had anything to eat, with little room in his bag and the uncertainty of further raiding opportunities.

His eyes had seen too much for comfort, and he knew he would see more the further he went, but it had to be done. He did not want to remain in one place for too long. Growing attached was not a good thing. He needed to move.

For now, though, rest was important. Finding a small, flat spot alongside a white half-remaining wall - the shell of some larger building, though he did not know what sort - he removed his bag from his back, with Kuriboh settling beside him. He felt certain relief. The bag wasn't large, but it wasn't light either.

Slowly, he sat down amongst chunks of white stone and heaps of smashed bricks.  _Smashed on impact_ , he thought. The place looked near-abandoned. It was for the best. White walls, white sky. White for the emptiness. White, the colour of death.

He noticed white smudges on the red of his jacket; from the wall, most probably. The place seemed chalky with dust.

 _White_  dust.

Enough.  _I'm going to eat something._

Judai reached for his bag, tugging on the drawstrings and digging in deep in search for something to relieve the hunger, trying to distract himself from the fear still present. He was alive, for now at least, and he was going to stay that way. He'd have something to snack on and have a rest and get the hell up and go. He would carry on in the same direction, then whichever way any road he saw would lead to. If there were any signs, he would follow them until he came to the places they suggested. Then, he would rest, look around, see if any supplies needed refilling, then journey out again. Those were the rules of solitary life. They, like the rest of it, were a burden and a relief at the same time. He would be alone, for the best and the worst.

His hand settled on a small bar of chocolate. It hadn't been too badly crushed, only broken halfway. That wasn't a problem - it would all end up broken in the end regardless of its state in the beginning. Even if the brown inside lost its taste and colour, it would still be rationed, then eaten. Some things were pleasures to begin with, but in desperate times, those became part of rigorous necessity.

Unwrapping the foil, he picked away at the chocolate in his hands. Before all of this had happened, he recalled loving anything sweet. Anything with sugar. Once, he remembered, he had said that he would die for more chocolate. Now, he could only stare at it. The joke didn't seem funny any more. Eating felt more like a chore with each day. Maybe, thought Judai, it would be easier to die.

He broke off a square and with a small, useless smile, offered it to Kuriboh. The small spirit, of course, had no use for human food, and only chirped gently in return. Judai knew that the action was foolish, but thought of his solitude again. He had offered the food as he would have offered it to any other human. In some way, pretending kept him sane.

He moved his hand back to himself, sighing. The chocolate was his alone. Reluctantly, he placed the square in his mouth, the once relieving taste providing him next to no satisfaction. He savoured the taste, avoiding his usual habit of gulping it down, trying to keep the sweetness there for longer. Still, his mood didn't lift.

Even if it meant less for himself, he longed to share the chocolate with others. Others were what he lacked. Yes, he had his familiars, the spirits who shared his journey and had served him - and whom he had served - for seventeen years, assuming he had been born that way. Even so, they weren't the same. They were not truly human.

Was he really the last man on Earth?

 _Perhaps,_ he reflected.  _Perhaps… But I doubt it. I really hope not._

Perhaps there were other survivors. Perhaps he was not truly alone, or at least, not the last human alive. That had to be true. Judai felt certain, or almost certain, that others had lived. He had not been the only one at the time right after the chaos.

He wondered what became of the ones he had walked away from. Were they still alive? Would he ever see them again? Would Asuka still call him selfish if he came back to them? Or would he be the laughing stock of the group, grovelling back, pale and hungry and driven insane?

The memory of the cough disrupted his questions.

Asuka's accusation.  _Cough._ A rebuttal. _Cough._ One last look at his friend's body, a silent prayer that his eyes would open and he would see that watery blue again. Bitterness, holding back tears. Walking away.

Asuka's cough. Just like Johan had coughed, like others.

_The cough._

The herald of the end.

He shook his head. He didn't want these memories, not again. His heart had sped up, breaths tense. This was not what he needed. He couldn't be ill. He couldn't die here. He had not lived enough yet. He had not found survivors. He had not achieved anything.

Kuriboh floated closer, almost perching on his shoulder, as if to ask what had just occured. "Kuri?" His whole round body tilted, almost in questioning.

"It's OK. Just bad memories." His voice was barely used these days; he had nobody to speak to but spirits. He could use his thoughts to communicate without a problem, but he wanted to speak. He wanted, so badly, to find somebody and speak. To feel human again.

He took another square of chocolate, toying with it with his tongue. It hadn't bloomed, but had none of the taste he once loved. Fed up, he chewed and swallowed. He could eat the rest later. Not now.

Looking towards the small brown spirit next to him, who had settled on top of his bag, he gave a sigh. As if he could tell his caller's intention, Kuriboh moved away, letting Judai place the chocolate back where it came from. Judai reached for the bag, hoping he still had some water left; he wasn't looking forward to raiding anywhere new -

A sudden shiver thrashed down Judai's spine, sending goosebumps through his limbs. The air felt colder in an instant. Judai shivered. He could not tell which of his senses had reacted so suddenly, whether it was one of his human five or the additional perception that came with spirit-calling. Whichever it had been, the resulting feeling was strange. Something strange was afoot. He gasped. This was not something normal. Something was coming.

A screech rang through the atmosphere surrounding him. Judai looked up.

The sky was still white and the clouds had not parted, but he could make out the origins of the screeching noise; most likely, it had also caused the strange sensation inside of his body. It was flying low, but still far beyond the reaches of even the highest remaining spire of the ruined townscape.

Pale, but visible amongst the dense white clouds, he saw it. A silvery, long neck and a sharp ended tail, long and shining, even in the lack of sunlight. What seemed to be chest muscles were a bright, clear violet against the pale silver-and-blue. He made out armoured limbs, strong-looking legs, four of them. And above that, beating the winds, were wings, as blue as river water, their edges shining almost… unnaturally without true light.

The dragon - Judai knew it, it had to be one! - soared above, almost trailing light in the sky. Like water sparkling in the sun, like sparks, like -

_like stars!_

Judai's mind kicked in.  _A spirit!_

A spirit he didn't know meant another human, doubtless. But that - his breath hitched - also meant another spirit-caller.

Quick! With the thought bolting into his brain, Kuriboh reacted, fading out as quickly as the familiar could muster. He had to hide. This spirit looked dangerous.

Judai gritted his teeth. He'd been lucky in the past. Spirit-callers were rare, that was true, but what made them dangerous was the vicious nature. Perhaps something in the mind, or some side effect of the 'sixth sense' attached, his kind were known not for their hospitality. Calling could easily become territorial, he had been told; callers could summon strong familiars to battle others. For dominance, for hierarchy, to terrorise the other into leaving the area designated 'territory', to kill, even… A fight was the last thing he wanted in this state of being. If there really was another caller in the area, he could not give away his own status.

Giving his weakness away was not on the agenda. Yes, Winged Kuriboh was not his only familiar. Yes, he had others.  _Some stronger._  If worst came to worst, Neos could surely handle the dragon. It was he, himself, that was the problem at hand. He had nothing.

If he ended up being forced into a territorial conflict… Judai thought,  _the last thing I need is to die before I've found any others._ Friendly  _others._

He wasn't sure if the dragon had noticed him - it didn't swoop down after him, but did make a swift U-turn in the air, gently folding in its wings to dip in height before a swift flap to follow, rising again. Turning, it faced in the direction from whence it came, with the feeling that had suddenly paralysed Judai beginning to subside.  _Definitely the sixth sense thing,_  he concluded.

His eyes continued to be fixed upon the dragon - its silvery-blue tail, its huge, star-streaming wings, the extraordinary sight and the sign of life it seemed to be as it flew back…  _to its caller?_  He didn't know. Rogue spirits did exist, but those, he knew, were rare. In almost all cases, a spirit needed the aid of its caller to emerge in the living world.

_Should I be relieved? I'm not alone, but… if this ends in a fight, it'd be worse than being alone._

The choice was there - to face the caller when they came, or to get away. Judai pondered the idea of even revealing his fellow caller status; heck, what if they would be a friend - but what if not? And what if he just moved on to another place? _No,_ he sighed, that dragon flew damn fast.  _They'd catch me again, and then it might just get worse._

The shape of the dragon grew fainter as the beast disappeared into the whiteness beyond. Judai felt his neck ache from craning his head up to view the dragon. Lowering his head, he felt Kuriboh reappear beside him, bouncing in anticipation. "Kuri-kuri, kuri-kuri!"

The little spirit seemed to be optimistic, the tips of his white wings fluttering gently, up and down. Judai ran a hand through his hair - unwashed for a while, yes, but that was circumstance; it was still the same brown as Kuriboh's own fur - and tried to smile in spite of the worries rising in the pit of his stomach. Anticipation, a slight fear, nagging anxious shakes, a sense of hope, relief, the awe that remained from the spectacle of the silver-blue dragon, a torrent of feelings he wasn't sure he could quite contain…

"I'm not alone, Kuriboh." He felt himself smiling, the positive vibes overwhelming the fears, if only just for a second. "I'm not alone. I'm not the only one!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note
> 
> [Revised Aug. '15 - adjusted age error and cleaned typo. Added 'Part One']
> 
> I said I'd write no more. That was 2 years ago, thanks to a toxic former fandom. YGO and the relating spinoffs are a born-again fandom love for me that goes way back; I got this idea after a resurgence - and finding this shipping! - all of a sudden and have been writing notes for days.
> 
> As always, this is a fanfiction, and I don't own the series in question, all that.
> 
> Much love. Review if you can.
> 
> Yours, Celestos


	2. The Rising

_**Chapter II** _

_**The Rising** _

* * *

_**warning - some unpleasant descriptions** _

* * *

Judai wondered why his chest had been feeling so heavy in the hours that had passed since he had sighted the crystalline dragon. There was a bitter, still taste in his mouth - more of a feeling than a sensual taste, it was difficult to describe - and it seemed that the two were connected. Both had emerged in the aftermath of the sight, both sickly and full of a strange kind of weight, as if there was some unseen burden inside of him somewhere.

Why, though? He might have been frightened. Anyone would be, what with days of solitude in the past, and before that the chaos, and before that, ambiguity. Was he alone, was he with others? Did the others know what he was? Should he tell them, should he not? Judai knew he was out of place wherever he had company. His previous attempts at 'friendship' had started with smiles and outstretched hands, as all attempts did, and how had they ended?

Again, alone, again. It would be wrong to say that he never tried.

The spirits were closer than any human friends had been. Winged Kuriboh had reappeared by his side, floating alongside him as he wandered in search of resources. In the back of his mind, he felt the other familiars stir. Strong, silver Neos, Yubel cloaked in their shadow-black wings, Featherman standing tall with Burst Lady beside him. They had flocked to his side, somehow, as if something had called them to aid through the years, with strength and knowledge no human could ever possess on their own.

The familiars he sensed now and the small-but-long-faithful one currently nudging his arm added up to a total of five. A few more he couldn't feel at the moment; something like nine. For seventeen years, not bad.

But even if he had fewer, it wouldn't mean much. Strength came in numbers, but not at all times. He'd never needed brute force to survive, excluding those childhood encounters with the odd bully. Mind manipulation would not have been bad during the early teens, but Yubel had only appeared at the end of last year. Thirteen year old Judai, devilish and still a little baby-faced, would have sold his soul for a few tricks to confuse the teachers.

Seventeen year old Judai, however, had other priorities. His soul was his alone, and so was his body. And if luck was on his side, his life would also remain intact in the following days.

Having lost concentration, he stumbled and swore as he almost tripped from not paying attention. On the ground lay a large wooden beam, pale and splintered in places. Turning to the side, Judai saw wires laying idly on the uneven concrete surface. Some were still attached.

He'd have to be careful. He breathed out a sigh of relief, for once thankful that there was no electricity. He was tired of his surroundings and tired of his situation, but not tired enough of the world to want to take his own life.

Some kind of optimism had always been a part of him, inseparable from Judai to the very core. He'd smiled in the aftermath of bullies tugging at his hair and clothes, smiled when he found himself staying home in the company of spiritkind instead of attending a party, smiled when he heard his name whispered together with the word 'strange'. He'd lived through the looks and 'let's leave him alone's. He'd been hurt, like anyone would have been. He'd had his outbursts, his naïveté, childhood and the curse of teenage hormones. Life went on.

The Earth had quaked and quaked. Buildings had collapsed. Cracks tore apart the streets he'd known for years. There had been no warning. Not even the dogs. He could still hear the screams of car alarms in his ears, feel the panic in the ear, the pounding of his maddening heart.

The tremors would not cease for hours.

He'd hid beneath a table, head down and fingers digging into the carpet, as if clutching it tightly would bring about some sort of relief. His breaths hitched, with his own limbs shaking, sweat forming on his temple. He was alone. His parents had not arrived home yet; in hindsight, they never would.

Neither would most of humanity.

He remembered feeling sick, still shaking, as the earthquake stopped. He'd tried to breathe, shifting as what seemed to be plaster and brick fell away. In his mind, his own familiars seemed ill with worry.  _But you are still alive,_ he'd heard Yubel breathe. The half-demon, normally savage in voice and wicked in looks had seemed like an angel in those moments of fear. He remembered thinking,  _Yes, I am still alive._

 _And_ now _, I am alive. I don't know how much time has passed, but I've survived. That's at least some credit. I survived the apocalypse._

Was this even  _the_  apocalypse? Or some natural disaster gone to hell, or… was worse to come?

There had been no more tremors since the original day of the chaos. Judai knew he had to be brave. There wouldn't be any more, he hoped. So badly, he hoped.

Making his way back to where he had left his bag - Kuriboh easily, effortlessly flew to it, waving a small, clumsy clawed limb like a hand, beckoning his caller to come and get back already. Judai sighed. He'd tried to navigate this place for a while. Enough of that for now.

He could try and sleep. He'd slept badly lately, what with the lack of safe spots and even less places of comfort. Concrete left him sore and relieved none of the pain. Shelters had collapsed. The ground that had once been green had turned brown where grass had died, and had taken on a dry state. Judai felt sick deep down whenever he had to stand on it. It felt like standing in the reach of something; clearly, nothing was there, and whatever was there was dead, but the feeling was there.

There could be fungus on it, even  _in_  it. That stuff - he dreaded it - was most likely toxic. It had grown on the trees, and more and more he saw the stuff. Sickening, bright orange specks, like tiny mushrooms, had been popping up all over on living matter, bright and innocent at first, then decomposing - maybe not even that, maybe simply sweating out more poison - leaving the once-living thing a reeking mess.

He'd seen it swarming a cat's corpse a few days ago. The cat had been lying there there, idle at the side of a road, brown fur clumped and sticky, limbs splayed out in all directions. A gash in its stomach amongst the sight of ghastly ribs was all he needed to see, but he'd seen more. The cat's innards had dried, with the tell-tale blobs splattered all over the wound. It almost seemed to pulse as it worked away, slowly beginning to infest the poor carcass as it spread.

It hadn't been much more than a kitten.

He'd retched violently.

Judai's hand moved to cover his mouth. The thought had been far from pleasant. He had so badly wanted to forget. His head spun as he struggled to focus. His vision blurred for an instant and focused again, then once again blurred.

A cold, though not unpleasant arm wrapped around his shoulder, stopping him from falling down. Judai turned his head - though he could easily identify the helper without the sense of sight - mentally thanking Yubel for her assistance. The spirit had emerged without his command, perfectly in sync with his mind, even when his voice was not. Her mismatched turquoise eye met one of his brown ones, a nod of understanding providing relief.

 _Don't strain yourself, Judai. You have a long way left._ Yubel was a creature of two sides, two aspects, and spoke at times with the voices of two individuals, though this time the only voice Judai heard in his mind was the female. Their voice was deep, with a touch of coldness and warmth all at the same time; Yubel was loyal as a knight to her king yet spoke in the tone of a wise, all-knowing mage. What Yubel said was only the truth.

"Thanks." He said the word, easing a smile. He was tired, confused and still a little disturbed, but he meant it all the same. With one familiar's physical support and the company of another (Winged Kuriboh had made his way closer to him, providing moral support with the odd squeak) he made his way back to his improvised resting spot.

Once there, he sat where he had before, in the same place where he had been eating when the dragon had flown overhead. Slowly, the feeling of nausea subsided, as did the throbbing in his head. Things seemed to be calming. Both familiars stayed by his side, carefully watching their caller to ensure he did not get worse.

"It's all right," he nodded. He needed some time to think. Understanding, the familiars disappeared from sight.

It would be troublesome being  _truly_ alone, he concluded. The spirits were what he needed most in life, other than food, water and oxygen. They were company, and yet were not human themselves. There was no danger of them leaving - and no danger of seeing them die.

How many humans were left? Judai had sincerely doubted he was alone - being 'the last one alive' was a worst case scenario, though of course a possibility - and the appearance of the dragon had practically confirmed it. He wouldn't be alone for long, whether that was a good or a bad change for him. The one who had called the dragon would most likely come. He had been seen and the dragon had flown back to wherever it had come from, so he thought. There was at least one other.

Another spirit-caller, like him.  _What were the chances?_

The chances of one caller and another coming together to fight, from his knowledge, were relatively high. It went back for millennia. Some primal instinct. Their kind fought regardless of circumstance, and the aftermath of the chaos seemed to be one perfect battleground. Splinters, stones, cracked pipes, tattered wires… all weapons in the right hands in the right field of view. Fungi from the trees, polluted freshwater.  _Also useful_. Even the odd dead cat, dog or squirrel. Whatever there was.

With resources limited and places of storage becoming key to survival, circumstances were lined up for a turf war. Someone was sure to be hostile.

 _But,_  thought Judai,  _what about risks?_ Any fight between callers was dangerous to a degree. Spirits could hurt humans, whether they saw them or not. The idea of being torn apart by a dragon's claws did not seem so appealing to him.

Spirits and callers, he knew, shared a life force, once bonded. Familiars relied on the humans who called them, as did the callers upon the familiars. The worlds of humans and spirits - twin, almost mirrored dimensions - co-existed together. Symbiosis - Judai had learned that word from a spirit - was the key to existence. One counted on the other, the other counted on one. If a familiar was heavily wounded, he would take at least some of the damage. He'd bleed or burn or suffer as a consequence of ties.

He didn't know what would happen to his spirits if  _he_ was to die. He needed to ensure that that wouldn't happen, even if it meant keeping a low profile.

Since the realisation (aged seven or so, he'd forgotten the details) that seeing them was abnormal, and that nobody else could see what he saw, he'd kept his power to himself. With time, his parents calmed; their boy had clearly grown out of imaginary friends. He'd been pretending.  _Children do._

At school, things stayed quiet. The only problems were incomplete homework and the occasional naptime in class. He'd never understood literature. Even so, he'd kept to himself, and where there were friends, they were few. Too often it had been a case of 'he's strange', 'we have other things', 'let's not'.

He'd tried to get his act together as he got older, realising he couldn't fail. He submitted essays and completed problems, did what he could, spent longer with a pen in his hand. He had reasons to try; he had no hopes for the future and no ideas for a career, but he couldn't stand there a failure. He'd been en route to finishing well; then the chaos had happened.  _So much for that one._

Now he wondered if he had a future at all.

The dragon might have been a sign of some sort, though. Was something going to happen with another spirit-caller? He'd met only one before the chaos. That had been a brief crossing of gazes on the street five years ago. Kuriboh had been out alongside him, and the venomous look he received from the dark-looking passer-by had been a sure sign.

He'd not seen the guy since. Judai remained thankful that the meeting had been brief and in the midst of a busy street, where there had been no chance of conflict. That was the one time.

The last time was more recent. After the world had been broken.

His name had been Johan. They'd found each other after a few days of solitude; the first living human he'd seen since the tremors began. Something was there from the start, like a magnetic force, and he found it hard to explain; like the two were supposed to repulse with their abilities suggesting they fight, and yet they attracted. They were similar. He saw them too. For the first time in his life, Judai had found somebody else just like himself.

They'd stayed together for a while, wandering on, finding a group to attach themselves to. The group was small - only seven of them altogether - but two callers amongst them was already significant. Their kind were rare enough for neither of the two to have spoken to any other before that was like them.

From the first day of their meeting, an undeniable bond was clear. Both were wild optimists. Both were determined to live in the face of danger. Both were willing to co-operate with their group and live together, though neither revealed their secret. With each other, it was never something they felt any urges to hide.

Johan had been a breath of fresh air in a stagnant atmosphere. A warm fire in the dark. A light.

_I wish you were here._

Johan was gone. He'd spent three days mourning him.

The wretched cough. He still heard it in his nightmares. He could hear Johan practically screaming as he struggled to breathe. Johan, who summoned beasts and tamed creatures both majestic and fierce. Johan, who always put on a brave face in the face of the end of the world. Johan, who was so much and so strong and so -

\- so  _human._  It was too easy for a human to die.

For three days, Judai had refused to talk. He practically stopped eating. He refused to let anyone near Johan's body. He refused to watch him burn, even if there was nowhere to bury him and unsafe to do so. He'd been screaming and spitting until the very end, when Manjoume and the Marufuji brothers took the matter into their own hands and dragged him out of that corner. _Let go, let go_ , they'd said.  _He's gone. Nobody could have saved him. Go on._

He couldn't let go. It was _Johan._

_What about us? What about yourself? Get up! It's not the end!_

It felt like the end.

_All you care about is yourself!_

On the dawn of the fifth day, he left the group. He'd not slept much.

Asuka had been coughing all night. His dreams hadn't been any better. He would be better off alone, without anyone else to help and be helped by. Johan was gone. Everything could go. It was him and his spirits. The others could never understand the connection, besides.

Everything and nothing. The world was gone. He was alone again. Alone for better or for worse.

He did sometimes wonder if the others were alive. Some part of him hoped so.

Another hoped not. There was too much suffering in being alive. His mind was conflicted.

Deep down, though, he couldn't shake off this feeling; it wasn't over. Somewhere, out there, there had to be something, Judai mentally shrugged. Those stupid ideals. All of those values. Maybe those things, like opportunity and hope, still existed. They were childish and worthless, but they still held their presence inside.

Maybe, somewhere, there were still reasons to believe. He'd loved the idea of being a hero once. Maybe there were still chances. Humanity hadn't died out; he would survive, and so would some others. They'd live and find ways and sort out the Earth. They'd leave a legacy, so that their descendants could give the land a brand new start. It had to be possible. He'd always believed.

After all, he had lost hope. And then, he had seen a dragon in flight in the sky above.

_Was that some sort of sign, then?_

"Kuri!"

The sound of a small cry left Judai startled. He turned his head around in search of the source of the sound, before realising the sound had come from Kuriboh. The spirit had not materialised, but he felt him; his familiar had sensed something around. Judai's eyes saw nothing.

"What is it?"

"Kuri!"  _Something is coming!_

 _The dragon?_ Judai's initial thought seemed obvious, but upon giving the sky a glance, he was surprised to not find it there. The clouds were still there, white and deaf and dumb, leaving no gaps for any sort of blue peering sky. Nothing else was.

"Kuri-kuri!"  _Listen!_  It was then that the realisation hit him; he was indeed hearing something. A faint growl, though not akin to a spirit's. It didn't feel natural. The noise felt mechanical, like the roar of an engine, growing closer as the  _something_  approached. The sound reminded Judai of the city and roads, sounds he had heard before bringing back memories of the past; the innocent past. Of familiarity, of the odd smell of gasoline mixed with hot coffee and pastries; sounds of the street, cars and passengers, passersby and small animals, of life in itself. These things he had not seen in weeks.

The roads were a wreck now, cracked and littered with debris. How anyone could be driving in this situation was a source of confusion and questions. But the noise felt so comforting, so strangely reminding of home, of missed objects and senses, of the things he never thought he would miss. He hated people and he loved them too, and with the atmosphere empty he'd never felt a stronger urge for another…

_Was it good to be lonely?_

The answer changed hourly.

There was still no dragon. Judai pulled his bag closer to himself for comfort. He felt Kuriboh quieten in his mind; it was likely the spirit had sensed it. The coming of a stranger.

Even if this stranger would not stop. Even if they stopped, but could not see him. Even so, Kuriboh kept hidden. Judai remained there in a state of confusion. Looking down at his lap, he felt the nerves kick in again.

_What will happen? What will they be like? Who are they, even? Why are they coming? Are they tied to that dragon? What will they think of me? Should I hide? Should I jump right out and hope they see me? Should I be afraid? Should I not? What will I do after this? Will I be alive after this? Will I be alone again?_

His stomach tightened with worry. He heard the noise grow louder, gently so, as the source of the sound grew closer. His hands were already damp with sweat.

_Why this anxiety? Stop it, stop worrying!_

It was like screaming at himself. It was shameful. He had to stop this. He had to be confident, like he'd always been. Before the chaos, he'd backed down from no challenge. He'd laughed in the face of adversity. He'd done all sorts.  _Why now?_

Swearing he'd punch himself if he could, Judai took a deep breath and forced himself to look up. The sound had disappeared. For a second, he thought that it had all been a hallucination.

It was then that he noticed a shape amongst the rubble. He wasn't far from the road, or at least what was left of it. At its side, he made out the form of a motorcycle, metal painted a crimson red that stood out madly amongst the surrounding heaps of brown, black and grey, and even more so against the blankness of the sky.

He gasped. There was a human there indeed. He made out dark leathers, a blue jacket concealing much of the rider's physique, their hands hidden with thick-looking gloves. Their head was concealed by a helmet that matched the motorcycle's red paint job, with no chance of seeing their face.

The helmet turned to face Judai - exactly, precisely Judai - almost immediately. Judai froze, his back leaning against the remains of the wall, hands pressed against the pieces of masonry on the ground, as if to cling, but more so to reassure. He shivered, unknowing.

Cautiously, the rider began to walk towards him.

Judai wanted to scream. He couldn't find an ounce of strength with which to run.

The rider's steps were slow, careful, painfully aware of the uneven terrain and the heaps of stone and brick and wood beneath them. They alternated between looking down and straight ahead, caution and confidence both showing in their movement. It seemed that they were no stranger to walking through wreckage, but not overzealous; they knew what to expect as they stepped from rock to plank. Judai noticed their thick brown boots, hearing every step as they drew closer.

They were only a few metres away when they stopped. Still, Judai could not see their face through the visor of the red helmet, even when he could see a scratch below it and scuffing above as it caught the light. Their hands moved up from their sides, then to the sides of the helmet, working to remove it.

Judai stared, this time not trying to look away.

The rider was male, upon closer inspection; a tall-looking man with jet-black hair, rubbing his eyes with the side of his sleeve as if to remove dust. Moving his arm down, his eyes met Judai's as he lowered himself down onto one knee. His helmet rested in one gloved hand, while the other moved down to rest on the ground for support. Closer up, Judai noticed a tattoo-like mark on one cheek, vivid blue eyes standing out stark against the light tan of his skin tone. He wondered what the mark meant.

He found himself startled as the man began to speak.

"Are you all right?" Even if this was the same person as the one who had called forth the dragon, his tone did not appear hostile. The voice was deeper than Judai's own, though in no way intimidating - rather, there was an air of gentleness present within it, soft and strangely calming. The speaker did not seem startled himself, though perhaps relieved in some way.

Judai nodded. "I… I'm fine."

The stranger reached out a thickly-gloved hand, his expression changing to a gentle, barely-there-yet-obvious smile. "I'm glad. I'm glad there are survivors." He lifted his head so subtly that he barely seemed to move, though his eyes caught the light with the action, lit up to an almost cobalt.

"My name is Yusei Fudo."

Judai's breath hitched in his throat. He had almost forgotten how to say these things. Slowly, his tongue moved.

"I'm Judai Yuki."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I hate spoiling content, I felt that this needed a warning.
> 
> My plans thus far include the beginning and the end of the story, along with key facts that will gradually reveal themselves as the chapters progress. Questions will be answered with time, I promise. More characters will appear.
> 
> For now, let us raise the curtain.
> 
> Yours, Celestos


	3. Yusei

_**Chapter III** _

_**Yusei** _

* * *

The excitement had been there, and so had the fear and the uncertainty, with hope that some kind of compromise would be found. Finally, after days, at least, of total human solitude, here was another survivor. Here was someone who had walked out of the ashes of the ruined world. Here was someone living and breathing, and from the look of things, not  _dying._

For a second, Judai recalled  _his_  voice in the back of his mind again.  _Blue eyes. Bright blue._ These eyes were darker, more vivid, but blue nonetheless. Johan's had been teal. He remembered them shining with tears, red with fatigue as the man's body convulsed, again and again. Another cough had practically torn through his throat. How he'd wanted to help him, to heal him, to take him close and at least keep him warm -

_Yusei._ Blue eyes.  _Different_ blue eyes.

He thought of the sky. The last time he had seen it had been at night, before the clouds had covered it all two days ago.

"Judai." Yusei's voice called Judai back to reality. The other man paused, as if to taste the name; familiarise it, assess it somehow. "That's good."

_What was good?_ The phrase could not have seemed more vague. Awkwardly, Judai nodded, unable to think of a response. What was he judging? Was there some reason his name was important?

He remembered the dragon, wings beating fiercely against white clouds.  _Did that dragon lead him here?_ Judai was certain the two occurrences were connected in some way. Most likely, Yusei was a caller, like himself, with that dragon as his familiar. It otherwise seemed strange. Too much of a perfect coincidence.

"Did you come from far away?" That was the first question Judai could think of to ask. It was a childish question, but one that had truly intrigued him from the start. Was there another place full of survivors? Where were they all? Could there be many of them? Stumbling on his own words, he felt sheepish for not having offered some hospitality sooner. "Are you hungry?" he added quickly, wanting to avoid making a bad first impression. He had never finished that chocolate.

Moving his arms, then legs to sit down amongst the ruins, Yusei gave him the same faint smile as before. He seemed to relax more, even if the two had only made contact for the first time bare minutes ago, perhaps simply relieved to have found  _any_  human alive in the wrecks.

"As long as you aren't starving yourself, it would be nice."

Judai wondered if the politeness was genuine or an act. So far, he wasn't sure. It would take a little more time, more conversation to tell. If it was an act, he could still attack first, or even just tell him to back off without the involvement of spirits, or any revelations at all. If it was genuine, then here was a miracle before his very eyes.

He wasn't sure if he believed in miracles any more. Nonetheless, he hoped this wasn't fake.

Turning away, he dug around in his bag, in search of the lost chocolate. He hadn't been as enthusiastic about the stuff as he had before the chaos. The other man could have all of it, for all he cared. It was all the same these days, chocolate or not, sweet or bitter or tasteless.

Finding it after a couple of seconds - thankful it had not melted - he gently grasped it, taking it out. The foil wrapper caught the white light from above, with Yusei's eyes immediately focusing on the brightness. Carelessly, Judai tossed the remainders of the bar to him, his expression unchanging even when the package was caught and stared at again, blue eyes singling out the red shine like a predator catching prey.

Judai gave the other man a glance, wondering how he would react to the chocolate? Would he trust him? Would he inspect it, prodding every corner, sniffing like a hound, checking for poison? Would he just take the damn thing?

"Thank you," was the answer, and a look of gratitude was reflected back at him, as Yusei bit into the chocolate bar. He seemed to be far more content than Judai had been hours ago, gladly savouring the sweet taste, as if he had not eaten chocolate - or anything else, for that matter, for days, even weeks. Judai glimpsed a smile on the other man's face, something he admittedly found refreshing. There was nothing false in that sincere feeling of satisfaction, it seemed to him. One man's trash really was another man's treasure.

Judai remembered loving chocolate once.

"It's no problem." Really, it wasn't. He'd find something else; Yusei could eat the whole thing if he so wanted. Chocolate wasn't the only thing out there.

"Hm?" Judai was startled slightly by Yusei reaching out to him, remaining chocolate in hand.

"It's all right, you take it," he replied, leaving him to finish, if that was what he wanted. Turning away, Yusei broke off another milky square, leaving it between two fingers as he carefully wrapped the rest of the bar up. Taking a smaller bite from the square in his hands, he placed the rest of the wrapper and its contents into the pocket of his jacket. For a moment, he ignored the dust on his gloves, finishing the chocolate piece with a faint sort of happiness in his expression.

A few empty, numb moments followed, in which Yusei did nothing, having finished eating. Judai blinked; the other man shifted, moving to sit down closer to Judai, as if to start some kind of conversation. It only seemed right to come closer; Judai had asked him a question before the chocolate had come onto the scene, and that question remained unanswered still. Perhaps he had not forgotten. Perhaps he had other things to say. Perhaps, Judai was wrong, and the traveller was going to say nothing at all.

Yusei finally spoke, still smiling softly. "Thanks." He paused, as if to work out what to say next. "I've not had chocolate in weeks."

Judai only shrugged. "Sure." At least he'd made someone happy. Deep down, he felt a little more content himself. Other people could be a relief sometimes.

"Are you… alone out here?" Yusei seemed hesitant; it was as if the answer was obvious to him, but the question needed to be asked regardless, out of politeness.

With a nod, Judai sighed. "Yeah. Alone." There was a bitter tang in his throat, dry and awkward. He wasn't going to mention the other group he'd met, and been part of. He wasn't one of them any more, and he wasn't even sure if there was anyone left in it. Johan had been coughing, then Asuka had started. He hadn't stayed long enough to see the outcome, but it all seemed too clear.

"It's just me as well." Yusei responded, turning to one side. "I… I did meet some people, but…" He didn't say any more. Judai wanted to look away too. What had lived had not lived for long.

"It's hard."

"I know."

The words were stale on both men's tongues. There were far more obvious things to say. They needed to speak, to know about each other, yet neither wanted to say anything at all. Around them, the air was stagnant, the earth still. There was no sound. Both, in the depths of their souls, longed for wing and birdsong. Life was no longer there.

Moments of silence followed. Neither Yusei nor Judai wanted to look at each other. Both thought of solitude; neither cared that the other was musing over the same things.

Yusei broke the silence first. "I've been looking, I guess. For others." His gaze moved to where he had left his motorcycle, crimson-red against white and grey and white again. The machine almost didn't belong in the landscape; a functioning, driven, moving thing surrounded by all things broken and shattered and bruised and rotting and dead. Judai looked up at it too, unable to tell the details from a distance but nonetheless fascinated by the oddity; the brightness, the beacon of hope.

"I'm just alone." Lacing his fingers together, Judai spoke in return. "I… I travel too. Going… wherever, I guess. Just… going around. Living." He didn't quite know how to describe himself. He didn't have a place of his own any more. He had no-one to attach himself to, no group. His shelters were the remainders of collapsed buildings, his roofs makeshift. He took what he needed from wherever he could find it, with no-one to punish him if he never paid. There were no other humans.

The spirits were his only companions. They had helped him stay sane, even safe at times. They were precious, but he dared not mention them. Yusei did not seem threatening, and appeared far calmer than he'd expected, but the danger remained. He felt strangely about him. Something was there, with him, and Judai knew nothing about it.

_The dragon?_ The worry stirred inside of him. He knew nothing and had everything to fear. "Somehow."

"…Yeah. I'm just living too."

"It's not that bad, I mean…" Now Judai wasn't sure how best to lie. A little truth, he decided, would sweeten the bad taste of deceit. "There's, I guess, cats." A lie. There weren't even mice. "Dead ones." Now that had been true. He'd seen some. Not even animal instincts had saved the poor, ragged things.

The other man didn't look at Judai; he wondered if he believed him at all.

"I understand." The sigh was clear; a mix of fatigue and empathy. "Anyone could go mad like this. It's better to talk to… something, than to nothing at all." Something about his tone felt genuine; as though Yusei's situation had not been so different from how Judai's has seemed prior to this day. True solitude hurt, that was clear. Both had been alone. Judai knew nothing about Yusei, and Yusei had not been told the exact truth about Judai's experiences - those he did not want to think of again.

If this wanderer, like himself, was a spirit-caller, then chances were high that he was even more similar to him. That, however, was not a fact to be revealed.

_What do we really know? I can't read him at all. He's nice enough, but what are the chances? When will he turn on me? Can I really trust him?_

He made little sense in Judai's mind. Flicking a stray mud-brown bang away from his eyes, he attempted to think of another decent topic to change to. This talk was too dry, too…  _depressing_ , he thought. He wanted to know more, yet feared the consequences. He wanted to speak, yet had no idea how to go about it. He had to keep calm about this.

Yusei's voice interrupted his train of thought. "I know it's strange. You can trust me."

Deep down, Judai wanted to, so badly. It was his voice, something in it. Or something about him, what exactly, he wasn't certain. Yusei Fudo felt trustworthy. Surviving meant coming together, likely.

Judai himself did not want to hurt him, or anyone else, for that matter. If needs be, he would - that he was confident about, he was brave and came armed with familiars - but in the situation given there and then, another dead man on the ground would not solve anyone's problems. Logic prevailed.

He'd not been one for logic much before the chaos. Logic or death was the answer these days.

"I hope." Sheepishly, he tried to smile. Clearly, it took more effort than anything else he'd done that day.

The other man nodded, himself attempting to smile in a show of comfort. Both understood the heaviness of each other's looks. Nobody felt like asking questions. Being brave-faced in these places hurt more than wild tears.

Time passed slowly. Faint breaths were the only sounds for a while. The sky was still white.

"I have fish. It's not much, but if you'd like, we can share." The taller of the two had ended the quietness, offering what hospitality there was to offer.

The other, taken aback but sincere, accepted the invitation. Food was limited. It would be dark soon. The opportunity was taken.

Neither man felt he could speak much that evening, regardless.

* * *

The sky was black now; if not pitch-black then certainly almost that. The clouds had begun to move as it had neared dusk, though not enough to see a true sunset. The sight would have been warm and beautiful - something fine to share with another, to celebrate the fact that neither was alone.

Judai was asleep. Yusei himself was never sure of the time these days, what with no watch, though he did have a flashlight. He'd let it shine near the other man, enough to check but not enough to wake him up, or so he thought. He wasn't sure in all honesty, but felt confident somehow.

He didn't want to wake him up. There would be questions. He had his suspicions about the mop-haired boy - he hadn't asked for his age, but he had to be younger - from the strange vibe he gave off to the fact that he was alive in the first place. He'd not seen many survivors.

The ones he had met, he did not want to remember.

_Would it be a burden, knowing somebody again?_  It worried him. Would he even get to know him, before one of their lives came to an end, somehow, at some point in time? It would hurt to lose somebody. He'd lost enough.

Even so, this  _hope_  was not something he could rid himself of. Perhaps, it was his manner, or the circumstances somehow, or something in him triggered by the long-missed taste of chocolate and warm hospitality. This was company, no matter how temporary, and he had to be thankful;  _was_  thankful.

Kneeling, the survivor began to search the scattered debris that practically made up the surface, his flashlight the only useful tool in the dark. The gloves, he admitted, did help, protecting him from any glass or loose wires or splinters, but the flashlight was a necessity. He'd salvaged the thing the first time he'd decided to raid a half-broken building; the batteries came from his second time. That had been… weeks ago? He wasn't entirely sure.

Spying something of use, he moved the light to take a closer look. A piece of broken wood, or some stick, that with a gentle pull, revealed itself to be the length of his arm from elbow to glove-tip. Gritting his teeth, he turned it around, relaxing when he found it unmarred by fungus. Plain, simple, bark intact. Snapped at one end.

He placed the stick under his arm for safekeeping, then turned off the light and placed it in his jacket pocket, moving to fumble around for something else inside. The gloves did numb his sense of touch, but he would need them anyway. He'd grown used to wearing them for weeks, only removing them when eating - with care - or when sleeping, or to clean his hands with whatever was found to be decent.

Groping around, his fingers found their target and removed it from his pocket. It was too dark to see, but he knew what this was anyway. A safe ration, provided he did not use too many.

The box was small enough to fit with plenty of room and serve its purpose well. He gave one side a gentle nudge, pushing the smaller box out of its casing and carefully - blindly, in the dark - picking out a single, small thing. Careful not to spill anything - everything was precious - he pushed the box back as it had originally been. Clutching it between two fingers, his other hand worked, and with a quick swipe, the small object lit up; a small fire sparked on its dark tip, lighting up the surroundings and its own wooden base.

He moved the match to his left hand, placing the small box back in his pocket, then took the stick from under his arm and held it in his right hand. Sighing, he moved the hand with the match and let the flame transfer. Quickly, its end caught fire. The tip of the match was blown out in response, the thick glove material ensuring the fire was fully out before it fell to the ground.

_How did humans first feel when they learnt of fire?_

He watched the flame dancing on the tip of the stick, scorching the wood as it slowly worked its way down, the heat inching closer to his hands. He longed to feel the fire in his hands, though more than that, he feared the burn at the same time, feeling fortunate that his gloves were protective enough. Here was fire; beauty and danger and hope lighting up the dark in his hands.

There was a strange feeling of serenity in it all, oranges and yellows moving in the dark as his precious light flickered away. What was harder to see was the charred black the fire left behind as the stick crumbled behind it; he wished that the light would last forever.  _Life,_ he thought, _would be easier if we could harness true fire_.

He thought of stars.

Harmless from far away. Things of beauty. Small lights.

_Pain if fire touches skin and fibres._

Such was life.

He let out a sigh, trying hard to push the rising memories out of his conscious. Now was not the time to be suffering. He wasn't alone any more. He was here, now, in this moment, with a companion sleeping soundly behind him. Glancing back, he was met with relief at the sight of Judai curled up, and though he was not close enough to see, he was sure of his body's soft rise-and-fall that signified that the man was still alive.

There wasn't much smoke, and the light was only small - travelling down and soon preparing to die - but he couldn't risk waking him up. For now, the time was his, and his alone.

Smoke twirling in the darkness and small glowing stick clutched in both hands, firmly gloved, he closed his eyes and began to pray. He could feel the approach of the fire, the scent both familiar and inviting, bringing his mind into calmness.

His lips moved slowly, with sound barely present, never enough to be heard. There was nobody alive to hear or to listen, and nobody awake to ask. The flame touched his gloves, material resisting. It didn't hurt. He felt the stick crumble.

He ended the whisper, using a small breath to end the burning of the fire. In the darkness, smoke spun. He let it do so for a few moments, clutching it in one fist to ensure it was out once the heat had begun to dissipate into the atmosphere.

It was too dark without fire to see the charred remains of the stick in his hands. He let the remainders fall to the ground, blowing once to remove some of the dust from his gloves.

_All things must die,_ he thought.  _All things have their time._

It wasn't his time yet, though. Now was the night. The living slept. He would sleep too.

_For a little while more, at least, let me see the sky._

Picking himself up from the uneven ground, he stood up, moving slowly across the dark sea of wood and plaster, pushing past brick and wire and kicking a stray tile, wincing when the latter clattered against more of its kind.  _Let Judai sleep._ With his flashlight, and some effort, he crept past the makeshift shelter where he would rest after, noting that Judai was indeed asleep. He wondered if he was uncomfortable. Perhaps he was tolerant.

People were either tolerant or dead these days.

Moving away, he traversed on, past the crumbled wall, just further on behind it, where he was sure not to awaken the sleeper. The flashlight flickered; he made a mental note to see if he could obtain more batteries elsewhere. He used the thing only at night - energy sources, both human and electrical, were not found everywhere, nor in permanently safe places. There had to be some abandoned store he could raid the following day in the area.

Once he was sure the spot was safe, prodding the surrounding surfaces with the toe of one boot, and turning his head one last time to check that he would not wake up Judai, he moved to sit down, slowly settling next to a small heap of stone and brick. The flashlight was turned off with a  _click_. All around him was silence.

_Quiet,_  he thought.  _Be gentle. Come here. I'm not alone._

As if in response, with an odd, kind gentleness, the air around him began to stir. Something like a breeze began to form around him; calm, yet with a hint of pure energy, as a familiar vibe sounded out in his mind. He saw faint tendrils of whiteness breaking the dark, light sparks blooming in the space around him, fierce as the light stood out and reassuring as it lit up the darkened ruin.

He sensed the other's presence as the ghostly shape formed, tiny lights flickering in movement, eyes of liquid gold amongst scales painted with silvers and blues, its chest forming firm like dark stones wrapped in shining muscle. The creature stretched its neck, reaching high, silently gazing at the black sky as it spread its translucent wings.

Having emerged almost entirely, the great beast - far larger than the one below it - gave its wings a sharp, decisive flap, letting the membranes stretch and sample the air. For a moment, an afterimage of light remained, stark-bright against the sky.

The caller smiled, ever-enchanted by the sight. He knew this well. With a gentle tug, one glove fell from his right hand. Calloused, work-worn skin met shining scales; those were rough to some and smooth as fingernails to him. The creature let out a gentle growl, crystalline teeth just showing, though not as a sign of aggression.

"I'm glad you're here."

As if in understanding, the creature dipped its head gently, its eyes lit up brightly.

There, in that motion, if another human had been awake, and if they were able to see, and if they were able to understand, they would have seen another afterimage. As one huge wing twitched and moved, they would have seen it; like white and blue, like small sparks vanishing, like some strange image of thousands of lights amongst the darkness.

_Stardust._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If at first characters seem strange, consider the situation. Things may change.
> 
> Please do comment, etc!
> 
> Yours, Celestos


	4. Apology

Hello,

I’m going to admit something here, and that’s that the following message has been in my head for months. It’s my fault that I never posted it out all this time, and I apologise for keeping you waiting.

I’m probably going to discontinue ‘Small Light’ for a number of reasons.

Firstly, this story was planned to be a oneshot, but somehow in my mind expanded into a full-blown story. However, that story isn’t really coming together, and many details have changed since its original conception. It just isn’t what I envisaged, and in all honesty, it may be better off going back to simpler times - in other words, I may rewrite it as a oneshot rather than as a long-winded, fantasy-that-evolves-into-horror-thing where, in the main part of the story, there was going to be a character death almost every chapter. I’m going to also admit that some of those planned deaths were going to be horrible - but in the end, I have a feeling this fic wasn’t originally going to be an ASOIAF-style killfest. Sorry.

Secondly, it’s a matter of my own personal feelings. I started out in my return to the YGO fandom/s as a major Starshipper, but those feelings have since declined. I’ve sort of moved on to other ships, and I don’t really feel the same passion for the ship any more. I do still respect other Starshippers - nothing against you, do not worry - but it’s just that I’ve moved on in some ways.

I also realised as I was writing the fourth chapter that the first and final parts of the story were going to end up almost unreadable, simply because so little happens. The focus on the two spinoff protags also made it weird for me to insert the DM characters into the middle of the fic, in all honesty. The whole thing just felt kind of artificial.

Additionally, my way of writing meant that I suffered from bad writer’s block for a lot of the story’s writing process, and going through a period of change in real life meant my schedule and priorities got messed around as well. I’m learning from this experience, though, and as I work on my new project, I am working out what went wrong this time and how I can do better now.

On the note of the new project, those who follow me on Tumblr (iamcelestos - I don’t bite, honest!) may be aware of the ‘U/C Project’, which is the nickname for my new fic. As I type this, it’s around 55k long, and it looks to be around 90k at completion. I will be starting to post it either next month or sometime later this year, but I am uncertain at the moment.

TO SUMMARISE - discontinuing this fic, many reasons, might rewrite as a oneshot. Not the end of my fanfic career, new stuff coming soon.

Thank you for the support thus far - I promise, if I rewrite SL, I will not let you down.

Celestos  
February 2016


End file.
